FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Dark Soles

Chapter 8

Sponsored by Rikochet

By Draconicon

Connecting with the power of his faith settled Nero, at least to an extent. The feeling of wrongness never entirely faded, but at least it was centered on him rather than everything around him. The world itself no longer felt tainted. That feeling was reserved entirely for himself.

THUNK!

"Watch yourself!"

Cilwein's warning kept Nero moving, the pink-furred rabbit barely keeping ahead of the gargoyle's sweeping strikes. More than once, he'd had to leap in and hit it with a small club, just to keep it from being constantly drawn to the white wolf on the other side of the rooftop, and every time he did, it was a race around the roof to keep from being battered into paste.

The only thing that kept him alive when a glancing blow hit him was his faith and the miracles channeled by it. More than once, the white light of the gods purified him, healing him once more, and just as many times, he'd given Cilwein strength when the gargoyle managed a lucky blow against her.

But it was a constant battle of attrition. They'd already seen one gargoyle come down from the heights, joining the one that they'd nearly killed, and they were both on edge that another one might do the same. Nero's eyes kept going towards the tower, half-expecting one more to fall.

It never did.

With one final arrow, Cilwein took the gargoyle between the eyes, and it fell over. The rush of souls poured through him, a share of the battle feeding him and leaving him panting with relief. He sagged down, sitting down before he could fall over, and pulled his knees to his chest.

The power of his faith was still there, but he forced himself to let go of it, to push that comfort to the side. Despite the comfort of capability that it offered, it brought something else starkly into the light, and the last thing that he needed was to focus on...on...

On the lack of something...there...

He shook his head, trying not to think about the way that his body didn't match, how he didn't have that down there, how he wasn't really a man despite doing everything that he could to make himself one and -

He forced the magic away. As the godly light faded from his mind, he was allowed to stop thinking about the mismatch, about the way that he wanted to fix that and...and have something...

Something unholy...

Something not allowed...

Then the feeling was gone, and he was himself. No more, no less. A cowardly cleric that was only able to work with the others to move forward, but at least he was slowly, bit by bit, moving forward.

"Are you alright?" Cilwein asked, the white wolf shouldering her bow.

"I...I think so."

"...A pity that this will not remove this obstacle in your world; I doubt that it will be so simple for you alone."

Simple. She called that fight simple. He supposed for someone that was hanging back and shooting them from a distance, it might have been, or for someone in a world that didn't have to deal with the Black Flame and the thing causing it, it was. But for him...for him, it was going to be anything but that. She was right about that much, he supposed, and that hurt him.

The rabbit pulled his knees a little tighter to his chest, taking another deep breath, then another. The air here was different than the changing air of his world. It was not so poisoned, so thick with the flames and scent of the darkness. Here, things were still...at least somewhat pure.

Here, people could follow their faith and feel justified. There...

"I must keep moving," Cilwein said. "Will you be - oh...you already are..."

He could feel it. Nero grunted, knowing that he dared not be caught in the open when he went back to his world. He nodded his thanks at the white wolf, waved, and ran.

He managed to leap through the open door just as he faded away, slipping back to his world. The fog wall rose behind him, and the black heat rose from the world below.

The pink rabbit looked over the edge of the balcony, seeing the same debauchery that he had fled when Cilwein had summoned him. A dozen or more Undead and Hollows alike writhed against each other. Flesh to flesh, fur to fur, scales and feathers and more touching each other from all angles. The squish and squelch of people sliding into each other, tasting one another and taking pleasure was too loud to ignore, even when he pulled his ears down against his head, and he could not help but watch.

Sitting at the head of the orgy pile was a great black wolf. His gold armor had been half-discarded, and the great hand-scythes that he carried as weapons were laid at his side. One of his hands rested on a throbbing shaft, while the other stroked the head of a raccoon that had bowed at his side.

"Ah..."

Nero's fingers curled around the railing as he watched. It was...it was completely anathema to the works of the gods, to the Way of White, but yet, here he was, watching and wondering how it would feel to be among them. The raccoon lowered his head, dropping down to the wolf's feet, and as the wolf - Lautrec, he'd heard the man named - lifted one up, he could see the burning mark of the Black Flame beneath his sole. It shimmered, and the raccoon stared at it as if transfixed, unable to look away, growing more and more erect the longer that he stared at the underside.

The rabbit looked away, but even at this distance, he could feel the effects of the Black Flame. It crept up from below, never consuming the wood and stone of the Parish, but just touching it, running along it, lapping along the many surfaces and leaving different things behind. Some torch sconces became hooks for chains and ropes for bondage. Several weapons against the walls became floggers, whips, tools of pain and pleasure.

And as the tongues of flame lapped under his toes, so close to touching him, he felt the phantom sense of manhood.

He looked down at the crotch of his robes, seeing - not for the first time around the Black Flame - a bulge that was more akin to what a real man would have there. Not huge, not massive, but enough of one to actually put a bump in his clothes. A little whimper rose in his throat, a reminder of what he didn't have, a tease of what he might gain if he went down there, if he joined them.

The knight hadn't seen him. The golden-armored wolf was too obsessed with what he had been given for submitting to the Dark Sole, but Nero was all but sure that the wolf would be happy to take him in.

But could he give me what I want?

That was a question that had no answer, not from up here.

Without thinking, Nero's hand descended, touching the bulge. He squeezed it, and he almost felt it, like the ghost of a memory of someone's touch that had long past. He hissed through clenched teeth, bringing his head down on the railing as he fell to his knees.

"Not fair...this...is not fair..."

He knew that this couldn't be considered right or holy. He still remembered the creature that had come down from the heights when he first arrived at Firelink Shrine, what that darkened thing had done to the priest and what Romund had saved him from. Those were the followers of the Dark Sole, and if they were willing to commit such acts as that in the name of the Black Flame...

And yet...

He could not say that the Undead and Hollows did not benefit. Even from where he knelt, he could see their scars fading, the burned flesh healing. They were lost to the pleasure, but when they climaxed, he saw clarity in their eyes. It was the first time that he had seen understanding and want for something more than death in the eyes of Hollows, and it made it impossible not to wonder just how much they were getting from the Black Flame, and...

These are heretical thoughts. I can't...I can't focus on this. I can't be tempted.

It was bad enough that he still thought of dragons and what they could do. It was bad enough that he still felt curious about the Dark Sole and the dragon that seemed to create the Black Flame from it. If he pursued those thoughts, if he dwelt on them -

"AH!"

Nero gasped again as one of the tongues of black fire reached far enough up to touch his thigh. He pulled back from the railing, his back thumping against the wall behind him. He waited, half-sure that the sound would have summoned something from down below, but either they didn't hear him or they didn't care. Either way, nothing came up the ladder.

Shaking his head, the pink-furred rabbit pulled his robe to the side. His bare sex dripped down his thighs, his need as shamefully obvious as it could possibly be, but there was nothing else - no, wait.

There was something left. Fingers, like someone had grabbed hold of his thigh and squeezed, almost like a bruise of fingertips along his leg. Except they didn't hurt. Not even slightly. His hand shaking, Nero reached down, letting his fingertips touch where the marks were -

Come to me, little rabbit...come to me and let me remake you...

He yanked his hand back, shaking his head as hard as he could as he tried to banish the voice from his head. It was deep and powerful, so strong and so intense that it felt like it would rattle his brain right out of his skull if he paid it too much mind. He pulled his robe back on, shaking his head as he got back to his feet.

The Black Flame was dangerous, dangerous beyond measure. Going down would just make him vulnerable to it again, so he had to do something else, something that was possibly even more dangerous.

He turned his head to the fog wall. The debauchery down below told him that the Black Flame had spread, and that meant that it might affect the gargoyles as much as it had the things below. If he had to fight two gargoyles that were so...amorous, and powerful, compared to what he had helped Cilwein fight...

I can't do that. I can't...I can't handle that.

Nero needed help. So, he waited...and hoped.

As he sat there, legs pulled to his chest, he saw the occasional tongues of the Black Flame creeping over the edge of the balcony. Each time he saw one, he heard rumbles in the back of his head and he didn't know if they were echoes of the first voice that he had heard or something else. Whatever it was, it struck him to the core, and made him...

It made him feel tempted.

It made him feel good.

It made him want to go down more than ever, and he was ashamed to say that the only thing holding him back was the fact that it was the wolf down there and not...not the dragon that the whispers promised was hidden somewhere else.

If I knew that the dragon was there...if I knew that it was out there and listening for me, waiting for me...would I seek it?

The answer from the depths of his heart was a resounding yes, and the part of him that still believed in the gods and wanted answers wanted to weep. It was a betrayal of everything that the Way of White stood for; if dragons still existed, the responsible thing would be to report it to the Church and hope that they would take care of it immediately. The presence of the great enemy of the gods was something that nobody should be eager about, but for Nero...

For him, it was a symbol of what the gods could be hiding. The gods had never helped him or soothed him, only told him that he was wrong, that he should have been a good girl. And here he was...breasts gone...pussy throbbing...wishing he had a -

A white light burst into being near the door, and Nero slammed his hand down on it without a second thought, desperate for someone, anyone, to come to him. As soon as he touched it, another one appeared, and he brought his other hand down on it. He didn't even read either one; he just needed someone here so that he wasn't alone with his own thoughts and his own head.

From the words rose two of the other Undead from the Asylum. One was the crow, a bandit, thick across the shoulders and taller than him by nearly a full hand. Black feathers rose from the back of the bird's neck, and he had an axe over one shoulder as he looked down on the pink bunny.

The other was a bat, one that he hadn't talked with much, but he remembered the other man's name: Tuwulf. The wanderer had been looking for a place to call home, if he remembered correctly, somewhere that he wouldn't be chased away from again. His journeys kept taking him one place after another, and he never settled down.

They both materialized completely, only to stiffen up as soon as they looked around. Baldred blinked, looking this way and that, while Tuwulf looked over the edge. The bat's eyes went wide.

"What...is that?"

"That...is what is wrong...with this world," Nero said, shaking his head. "The Black Flame...and it's spreading."

"What are you talking - holy..."

"That is the one thing that it is not," Nero said, shivering as he hugged himself. "It's anything but holy."

"...I can't say that they seem to be in pain...but it is far from natural," Tuwulf said, the bat shaking his head and leaning away from the railing. "What is through the door?"

"Gargoyles," Nero said. "I helped...I mostly helped Cilwein fight them in her world, but here..."

"They're probably going to be fuckers," Baldred said, hefting the axe in two hands. "Well...shit. This is gonna be a thing."

"Well, at least we have a cleric." Tuwulf looked back. "Can you heal us?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

"Then two of us will have nothing to fear."

"Hang on. Hang on a second." Baldred blinked, looking back. "Did you say 'Gargoyles'? As in, more than one?"

Nero nodded.

"...How big?"

"Three times my height."

"..." The crow tapped his fingers against each other, muttering some curse under his breath. "What kind of weapons?"

"Fire breath, a great axe, and a bladed tail."

"...Huh. I haven't seen one of those since leaving Carim," Tuwulf muttered, pulling out a pair of daggers. "Well, from what I remember, those tails can be cut off with the right kind of aim."

"I wasn't planning on trying to cut 'em down from the front, anyway," Baldred muttered in agreement. "Alright, then...Let's get this done with."

"Thank you for -"

"You just make sure to show up when we call you back for our turn," Baldred said. "Fair's fair. And if you don't...I swear to whatever's listening out there that I'll throw you off the balcony right into that black shit."

"F-fair," Nero said, nodding.

They stepped out together, and the difference between Nero's world and theirs was made all the more obvious.

From the rooftop, one could see all the way down to Firelink Shrine, and one could see that it was covered in writhing tendrils, the plants themselves rising up against the nature of the world. Some few Undead were caught in them, and they were molested, molded, used and abused until they became something else. The Undead Burg was a bonfire, with great black peaks of the Black Flame rising from it, and here and there, one could see the great orgies that summoned the pleasurable fires.

The courtyard was all but gone, with only narrows paths through that was untouched by the flame, and from the heights, one could see the armored knights of Balder stripped of their protection, their bodies bared to the sun and the flames, wreathed in it like great demons of desire. Shafts and slits alike were on display, and great bared soles left hissing footprints on the ground as they walked along.

And all bore the sign of the Dark Sole upon their chest, a great black footprint that spread across their torso from the bottom of their throat to the bottom of their ribcages.

"What...the hell...happened here?" Baldred whispered.

"I told you...the Dark Sole. It is taking everything."

"We've got to do this fast," Tuwulf muttered. "Can't imagine that those paths are going to stay open for long. If we can get this done, then get up to Anor Londo up there..."

They all looked up at the great peak that loomed over the Parish. Up there, way past the fortress attached to the church, was the city of Anor Londo. They all knew it, all knew that the gods waited for them there. Even here, even in the blighted, darkened world that Nero lived in, the Dark Sole had yet to claim that city.

We have to get there before the darkness does. Before the Black Flame claims everything.

If the gods knew about it -

If they know? Blasphemy.

But he had to hope that they didn't know. If they did, and things were this bad, then they were either careless and didn't mind what happened to those caught in the fires...or they were helpless against it, just as he was, and just as every other Undead and Hollow was.

They were ripped out of their consideration for the world as the great shrieks of the gargoyles split the air. Baldred and Tuwulf raised their weapons as the great statues in the belltower woke, and one of them leaped down. Nero waited, one hand on his talisman -

Only to gasp, his eyes going wide as the gargoyle landed.

It was just as massive as the ones that he had fought with Cilwein, but where they had been armored and scaled over with great plates that protected them from errant shots, this one was bare. It loomed over them, an axe in one hand and a shield in the other, but there the similarities ended. Rather than a bladed tail, it ended with a pointed tip, and it dripped with something that could only be some sort of poison. Its massive legs ended with three-toed talon-feet that gripped the rooftop tightly, clenching and cracking at the tiles, and between its legs...

Between its legs was a manhood so large that Nero was half-sure that it was longer than he was tall. It swung back and forth, swaying, sliding, almost touching the rooftop as the gargoyle ambled their way. His breath caught in his throat and he held it, not daring to breathe as a miasma of darkness began to spread across the rooftop.

"Breathe shallow," he whispered. "Try and hold it for as long as you can. That...that miasma will...affect you..."

"How?" Tuwulf muttered.

"Like the fire affected the Undead."

"Great," Baldred grunted. "Okay, then. Who's up for killing this thing as fast as we can?"

"I'm game," the bat said, nodding. "On three?"

"Yeah, I'm good with that. One...two..."

"Three!"

Nero stayed where he was as the two fighters lunged in, the bandit crow raising his axe high and the wandering bat swooping in low. The gargoyle roared, throwing its head back before lunging in, breathing fire as it went.

His allies jumped to the side, only for the bat to leap right back in, sinking his daggers into the gargoyle's side and using it to climb higher and higher, right up the monster's side. The crow, on the other hand, kept running, darting right around to the tail.

Snikt, snikt!

As Baldred dodged, dancing left and right to avoid the strikes of the tail, Tuwulf continued to climb. The bat was in that perfect sweet spot to avoid getting hit by the gargoyle's flailing arms, but if that tail ever decided to change targets, he would be a sitting duck.

I can't believe that they've never worked together before, Nero thought as the fight played out before him, the other Undead working in perfect sync with each other. They know exactly what to do...

Every time that the tail paused, starting to orient towards Tuwulf, Baldred leaped in with a chop. It was never more than a glancing blow on the tail, but it clearly hurt enough to make it target him again. The crow was fast, fast enough to keep dodging and blocking, while the crow kept climbing. Up, up, up -

And then it was done. The daggers came out of the gargoyle's sides and plunged right into the beast's neck.

"AAAAAAGH!"

The gargoyle's spouted flames and blood in equal measure from its throat, and Tuwulf screamed as he fell. Even as the gargoyle collapsed in its death throes, the tail continued stabbing, pulsing, darting about. Baldred ran from it, getting some distance, but the burning bat was too close.

"Nnngh...help...help me!" Tuwulf shouted.

THUNK!

The stinger came down, embedding itself in the rooftop, but no sooner had it hit than the flames of the gargoyle began to change. No longer purely heated with fire, but with the same dark flames as below, and as they spread, the screams from the bat started to change. They warped...shrieking...then whimpering...

Nero held his breath and ran through the miasma and flame. He felt the heat, felt the flames and the tickling tingles that ran right up from his groin. For a split-second, he felt sure that something had changed, that something had closed and something had grown -

And then the light came.

He brought his hands down on the bat's back, holding them there as he channeled every ounce of his faith through that touch. Not thinking, not holding back, just forcing everything he had into the wanderer. The bright light pushed back the darkness, and the Black Flame licked around the boundary of the shell of light around him.

And bit by bit, the wounds and the pain and whatever else that had afflicted Tuwulf began to fade with it. The bat groaned, his head down, one hand covering the side of his face as he hissed in pain, but even that seemed to be fading, if gradually.

"Are you okay?" Nero asked.

"Heh...going to be...just...don't look between my legs at the moment."

"I-I am a -"

"I know," the bat said. "Just...thank you. Didn't know if you'd...if you would help..."

Nero was too busy healing to let the rest of the world catch up at that moment. He was sure that if he had been paying attention, he would know that he was still surrounded by the Black Flame, though it was slowly dying off as the gargoyle finished dying. He would have known that he had leaped through it and could have completely corrupted himself for the sake of someone that he barely knew. He would have known many things.

Instead, he just held to the faith in the Way of White, to the gods that had helped raise mortals from the muck, and closed his eyes to focus on the healing.

The pulsing warmth soothed him and brought back the self-hate at the same time. He remembered, at the back of his mind, the satisfaction that he'd felt as he ran through the Black Flame. He remembered, ever so faintly, how it had felt to be completely what he wanted to be instead of what the faith told him to be.

He remembered, and he forced it down to do what he promised.

Just as the last of the injuries faded, a familiar cracking sound split the air. They all looked up, and the second gargoyle looked down.

"...Ah, shit," Baldred muttered. "Here we go again..."

The Black Flame faded just as the second gargoyle hit the rooftops, and this one was far more aggressive. It leaped after Baldred almost instantly, chasing after him with darting tail and questing axe. It was never far behind him, and the crow kept leaping back, barely deflecting the tail strikes and rolling out of the way of the axe. Each blow slammed down hard on the rooftop, shattering pieces here and there and sending tiles flying.

"A little help here!" Baldred shouted as he was forced back.

"We better get in there," Tuwulf muttered. "Don't suppose you can fight?"

"Not well," Nero admitted.

"Heh, then be ready to heal. I bet that one was watching; that trick's not going to work twice...Ugh. My face..."

"It's not...melted...if you worried about that."

"Well, one good thing. Come on."

They were halfway across the rooftop when the gargoyle managed a glancing blow on the crow. It missed with the tail stinger, but managed to hit the bird with the blunter part of the tail. The bandit went over, almost falling off the rooftop completely. The tail turned -

"Not today!"

One of Tuwulf's daggers caught the tail a half-foot away from stabbing down into Baldred's arms, pinning the tail to the rooftop. The bat followed it up with a second, third, fourth dagger, each one flinging out faster than the one before it. As they peppered the gargoyle's back, piercing wings and flesh and scales, the beast turned and roared at the top of its lungs.

"Get him up, get him uuuuuup!"

Tuwulf was the bait now, and as the bat ran around, flinging blades over his shoulders as he did, Nero ran for the scrambling crow. He grabbed hold of the bird's arms, pulling him up little by little, until he was able to get his talons under him. As the bird stumbled back onto the rooftop, another grunt was heard, followed by a black blur flying up and over the middle of the roof. Baldred and Nero caught their comrade before he could go flying off the roof, and the bat pulled an estus flask from his hip.

"Mmmph...that tail packs a punch."

"Mmm-hmm, tell me about it," Baldred muttered. "It's stronger than the last one; it's not letting us get close together."

"Gonna have to catch it off-guard." Tuwulf grunted as they set him down. "Nero, do you have anything besides healing?"

"W-well, there is..." He groaned. "There's one thing, but...I don't know if it's strong enough to handle the gargoyle."

"Repulsion?"

The rabbit nodded.

"We'll have to try," the bat said. "Should be enough with how it's already hurt. If it was at full strength, maybe not, but as it is..."

"Long as I'm not bait again," Baldred muttered, shaking his head as he picked up his axe. "How do you want to play it?"

"Get it over here. Make it attack the bunny, but stay back from the spell's range."

I can't believe I'm doing this. This is death. This is how I die. This is how I die, lose my humanity, and go right back to being burned and blackened and everything and - oh god oh god oh god...

The gargoyle was coming right back over the middle of the roof, running right for them. Baldred ran left, Tuwulf ran right, and Nero was left standing right at the edge of the rooftop. The gargoyle kept running right for him, axe raised to the heavens with killing intent. The bunny stared right at him, frozen with sure knowledge of death coming for him -

"Nero!"

"R-Repulsion!"

He barely remembered to cast, and if it hadn't been for the bat shouting, he would have died. As it stood, the axe was coming down as the light filled him, and it almost cleaved him in two before the bright light of his faith pushed out. It forced the axe back and the gargoyle with it, sending the winged beast flying backward and falling on its side.

Tuwulf and Baldred leaped in before it could recover. It wasn't just stabbed this time, but beheaded, completely decapitated. They ran away, Baldred shoving him along, before it could explode in more of the black fire.

It was done. They had fought, survived, and won.

There was no time to speak; the other two were already fading, and Nero was left alone in short order. He sat down, barely breathing as he realized that he'd just done something that he would have considered impossible mere minutes ago. Not only had he fought, but he'd managed to stand in the face of impending death...and push back.

And he was full of souls, now. He could feel the sheer strength of two successive victories burning beneath his fur, and he wondered just how much stronger he might be the next time that he found a bonfire. So many souls to feed it, so many sacrifices that would give him the strength to keep rising, to keep chasing the power of the gods.

"...The bell..."

He turned, looking over his shoulder. The belltower was no longer defended. He could go up - yes, just like he imagined Cilwein had done. She was probably already on her way to the next one, the confident wolf making her way to wherever the bell below was, and he...he had to ring this one if he wanted to catch up with her.

They were all making their way forward, all claiming great strides across Lordran. Even if his was the worst, even if he was facing something that tempted him to cast down the gods and take it up as the greater, more satisfying power, he had to keep moving. He had to keep fighting. He had to keep trying.

The pink bunny slowly got to his feet and approached the tower. The first few steps were stumbling, but slowly he got his footing back. The power of the gods faded from his heart as he released his connection, and it took the pain of his 'wrongness' with it.

He tried not to think about that. Every time that he channeled his faith, he was made painfully aware of how 'wrong' his decisions were, and how he shouldn't be what he was, or want what he did. Every time that he felt their power, every time he used it to help someone, it just...punished him.

How dare he be this way?

How dare he call himself 'he'?

How dare?

How dare?

How dare?

Nero climbed the tower with those thoughts echoing through his head, and only when he reached the top and swung the bell, filling the air with a powerful clung, clung, clung sound, did he feel like they were appropriately silenced. Because, wrong or not, he had made it here, and he had fulfilled one half of his obligations so far.

The rabbit at down, planning to rest for a few minutes until he went back to the other side. He hoped that there was a bonfire nearby that he could give his souls to, some way to get greater power before trying to help the others, but...

He looked at his leg again. The marks were still there. The fingerprints on his thigh were still there. The rabbit hesitated, the questions, the worries, everything still so strong in him...and against his better judgment, he rested his fingers on the prints on his flesh once more.

Good bunny, the voice said.

"Who are you?" Nero whispered. "What...what do you want?"

What do I want? Why...to give you what you want...

"You're a dragon, aren't you?"

I am the dragon, little bunny...and I will give you exactly what you want...what you have always needed...if you will come to me...

The End

Summary: Nero sees some of the power of the Dark Sole first-hand, and his weakness starts to catch up with him.

Tags: M/M, M/F, Foot Worship, Raccoon, Wolf, Crow, Bat, Rabbit, Magic, Corruption, Aphrodisiac, Orgy, Mind Control, Dark Souls, Parody, Rule 34, Furry, Series,